Fog

Post111

I have to build myself up to leave the house and only ever do this for medical appointments. My life now is resting in bed, being sick and hospital. The sickness is all-consuming and I have no identity other than as a cancer patient. Getting to The Royal Marsden by tube is horrendous and the equivalent of doing multiple marathons, if you do marathons vomiting along the way. Somehow, I do it, puke on a street corner and carry on. I am put on a continual flow of anti-sickness pills and a course of steroids to help ease my ill health but the nausea remains. The oncologists tell me this is the period when I should start to feel better, which is alarming as my health is deteriorating. My time is spent in a foggy daydream.

I am in bed wondering if cancer has taken hold and this is my fall over the abyss. I have to fight the cancer while I am at my weakest. Lying there, I face my mortality. I am so ill and decide to arm myself with some knowledge. I look online and find out my form of cancer has fewer than 600 cases per year in the UK. As the UK population is about sixty three million, getting nasal cancer is very rare. The website states the prospect of survival is minimal. My heart skips a beat. I break into a sweat and look around the room in a panic. But, the statistics before me are a generalisation and do not relate to my circumstances. Clicking on another webpage which explains about tumours, I find out there are four categories, beginning with tumours restricted to the nasal cavity and ending with terminal tumours that invade the brain or cranial nerves.

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